


5 Times Versus That 1 Time

by sumnawaz



Category: Blood and Ash Series - Jennifer L. Armentrout
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumnawaz/pseuds/sumnawaz
Summary: 5 times Casteel almost told Poppy he loves her. . . And the 1 time he finally did.
Relationships: Penellaphe Balfour/Casteel Da'Neer, Penellaphe Da'Neer/Casteel Da'Neer, Poppy Balfour/Casteel Da'Neer, Poppy Da'Neer/Casteel Da'Neer
Comments: 9
Kudos: 85





	5 Times Versus That 1 Time

**Author's Note:**

> all characters belong to Jennifer L. Armentrout.

5 times Casteel almost told Poppy he loves her, and the 1 time he actually did.

  1. Under the Willow



Her lips were kiss swollen, the red color she’d worn smeared prettily along her mouth, and he had a feeling his own mouth appeared the same. But Casteel didn’t quite care how he looked—only how he felt. The silence under the willow was only disturbed by the sounds of their ragged breathing, and Casteel felt like he was on fire. His forehead rested against Poppy’s, lips electrified with the desire to close the gap between them once again.

Bad idea. This was a bad idea. On so many levels, things were getting fucked up and Casteel _knew_ he shouldn’t have done this. But the second Poppy asked him to kiss her, any willpower Casteel possessed disappeared the second those words fell past her lips, and he was capable of nothing but agreeing to her request. 

She was beautiful and warm and Casteel was utterly gone for her, he knew he was. Not for a second did he think of Kieran and the others waiting just outside the gardens, waiting for his signal to whisk Poppy away. All Casteel thought of was her, in this dress, in his lap, looking as dazed by the kiss as he felt. 

How easily did Poppy get him to completely forget about _everything_.

He didn’t understand it, most definitely hadn’t prepared for it—and he most definitely hadn’t prepared for the emotions that tightened his chest. Emotions he didn’t think himself capable of feeling—emotions he hadn’t felt in _decades_.

But this was different. Poppy was different. And he so desperately wanted to voice the feelings that took him by surprise.

Instead, he let out a breath, swallowed those three words he was nowhere near ready to say, and stated reluctantly, “I need to get you back, Princess.”

2\. When he asks a promise from her. 

He hated himself. He truly did—and yet. . . He couldn’t regret it. He’d never regret what happened.

He just regretted, so deeply, that Poppy didn’t know the whole story. Didn’t know _him_. Not in the way she thought she did.

She was flushed against him, legs tangled as her fingers tangled in his hair, his lips brushing along her jaw. Casteel’s throat felt tight with the burning need to tell her exactly how he felt, words he’d kept buried deep inside in the moments he’d been deep inside her. Her touch had driven him wild, her kisses allowing Casteel to so easily get lost in her and, for a moment, be selfish enough to give both of them this. 

But she would find out the truth, sooner rather than later, and as he lay against her, feeling her fingers both in his hair and trailing down his back, Casteel knew he should confess now. Knew it was so, so incredibly wrong of him to let things get this far. Tell her—he should tell her, and yet, the words tightened in his throat, lost in the fear of the aftermath of what would happen if he did.

And it wouldn’t be fair—not to Poppy. Because if he told her now, after what they did and before she inevitably found out the truth, she wouldn’t believe him. And Casteel was. . . He was afraid she’d think he only told her because he was trying to. . . To sweeten the revelation of who he really was. He wouldn’t do that to her. He wouldn’t hurt her—

Anymore so than he probably already did.

Shit, he was _so fucking selfish_.

So Casteel swallowed those words once again and, in the quiet of their shared room, spoke against her skin, begging her to remember that no matter what. . . This was real.

3\. After they fight Craven

“I was hoping to have the chance to rescue you.” He wiped the sword off on the pants of a dead Craven. “But you didn’t need my help.”

Of course she didn’t need his help. Casteel couldn’t tear his gaze away from her; despite being livid that she put her safety in jeopardy, Casteel wasn’t surprised in Poppy’s ability to defend herself—both against him and the onslaught of Craven that attacked them.

Casteel lifted his chin, unable to tear his gaze away from her. She stood with the sword still in her hand, the blade dripping with Craven blood, her own cheek slightly splattered with it, too. Stunning. She looked absolutely breathtaking standing there, chest rising and falling as she caught her breath from taking down the Craven, and Casteel himself had trouble finding any air to breathe.

Wisps of red hair escaped from her braid, framing her face that glowed with the aftermath flush of battle, and Casteel was hit with yet another urge to crush his lips against hers. Kissing her before those creatures rushed through had sent a surge of electricity through him, giving him the energy to slay the Craven with a feral grin on his face. 

And then. . . Then she told him about her Craven bites and Casteel’s heart pounded in his chest as he was reminded, yet again, how fucking strong she was—a survivor, a warrior in her own right that Casteel was struck in awe by every time he looked at her. 

Slowly, Casteel made his way over to her and gently took the sword from her hand, suppressing the urge to grasp her hand instead. Instead, Casteel just led her back towards the keep, an arm wrapped around her shoulders to keep her close, shielding her from the chilly wind. He kept her warm because if he couldn’t tell her what he desperately wanted to, he at least could show her in any little way he could, whether she knew it or not.

4\. When he gets her back from Chaney

Casteel refused to think of how she had felt like dead weight in his arms when he carried her back. How she couldn’t keep her eyes open, the blood dried on her arm, and how he had to rest her head against his chest so it wouldn’t bob weightlessly and awkwardly. 

He wanted to burn the world. Wanted to rip apart Chaney limb by limb, but that death was not his to take. So Casteel focused on the woman asleep in the bed as he remained seated in the chair in the corner of the room. His head was a torrent of emotions; there was anger and guilt for letting this happen. Casteel knew Poppy was capable of defending herself, she’d proven as much when he’d arrived at the carriage and saw that bastard Ascended bleeding in the corner, but it never should have gotten that far. 

When he’d found her, heard her battered voice call for him—call him _Hawke_ —he’d been so damn close in fulfilling his desire of ripping apart Chaney. But all he could do was focus on Poppy, on her _bleeding_ and _hurt_ , and his heart had lodged itself into his throat. The panic—the utter panic he’d felt upon realizing that she’d been taken, when he found her beloved dagger in the barn, was something Casteel had never experienced before. 

And everything he’d never said to Poppy—he suddenly wanted to say it. He wanted to find her and he wanted to tell her but—

Casteel couldn’t keep his eyes off of her as he leaned back in the chair, shoving his fingers through his hair as he released a long, ragged breath. The guilt clawed at his stomach, his own voice distorted in anger yelling at him to have kept a close eye on her. She didn’t need him to, but he _wanted_ to, and he failed.

He’d been restless, even after getting her back. After compelling her to go to sleep once he’d given her his blood, Casteel had sat on the bed next to Poppy’s sleeping form, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest—the mere sight of the movement calming him down. He brushed strands of red hair away from her face, made sure the blankets kept her warm, and just _watched_. Watched and reminded himself over and over again that she was safe now, as if the sight of her sleeping in the bed wasn’t enough to do so.

Casteel was seated on the chair when he caught her shifting, freezing where he sat next to the fireplace. The air rushed out of his tight lungs when he saw the flutter of her eyelids opening, catching her sharp inhale as she woke up. “Poppy?” Her name fell from his mouth like a careful, hopeful question, heart thundering as she turned her head so their gazes locked.

She was awake. She was _alive_. And Casteel had never felt so grateful for anything in his life before.

He immediately stood and, not for the first time, shoved down the words that wanted to be voiced out of truth and relief and gratitude and instead asked, “How are you feeling?”

Because how she felt was far more important than the emotions that had settled so deeply into Casteel’s bones.

5\. When the “sky is on fire”

There was so much they needed to talk about. So much that needed to be discussed because. . . Because Casteel couldn’t bear the thought of Poppy thinking of him the way she indicated. He hadn’t expected the disappointment and. . . _hurt_ he’d felt when Poppy thought things of him that couldn’t be further from the truth. That she, even for a moment, considered him to be _that_ kind of person.

Then again. . . He hadn’t quite given Poppy any reason to believe that, at the end of the day, she somehow managed to get him to be loyal to only her. Whatever that meant.

He owed her the truth—all of it, but, Gods, it wasn’t the right time.

And so the two of them stood on the Rise, waiting for Delano to return, as the sky burnt a glowing orange. His arms were around her frame, her back pressed into his front, and Casteel leaned his head against the brick wall and allowed for his eyes to shut for a moment. The tension eased from Casteel’s muscles, despite the circumstances, merely because of the closeness between him and Poppy. Because. . . Because despite the conversation they had and needed to have, she still was comfortable around him, enough to stand this close to him. And that. . . That meant more to Casteel than he could admit.

This closeness between them, Casteel never took it for granted.

Even if he was undeserving of it, even if he owed her so much more than what he’d given her. 

And Casteel knew Poppy had a right to the truth of his history, of everything that pushed him to making every decision involving her, before he could ever hope to tell her the truth he carried in his heart. Because that truth wasn’t meant to be used as some kind of appeaser.

That truth was to be declared under no other circumstances other than letting Poppy know how he felt about her, without the weight of all this other shit pushing them down.

So he would wait—wait longer than he already had, because it was only his fault, really—to tell Poppy the one truth that he wanted to tell her, but knew he needed to hold off on it. At least until she knew everything else.

She deserved as much. And Casteel refused to be another person who kept Poppy in the dark. 

  1. And the 1 time he did. . .



Casteel hadn’t expected it to be Poppy who said it first. And, for the briefest of moments, he regretted waiting so long to speak those three words that carried every ounce of truth he could ever hope to say. But that regret didn’t last long, had disappeared faster than it manifested, because it was replaced by such overwhelming shock and. . . and relief as he heard Poppy say those words against his chest. 

“I love you.”

She said it so easily, so softly as if it was a relief for her to finally speak a truth she’d been carrying with her for longer than she liked without ever voicing it. And Casteel understood that, because that’s exactly how he felt, too. Except right now, all he could register was this electrifying gratitude, this relief, that his wife felt for him the way he felt for her. 

There had been moments, so many moments, where he wanted to tell her. Hell, he should’ve told her on their wedding day, yet the words never came. Perhaps because he knew that Poppy already understood how he felt, and he was aware that she felt the same way if the way she looked and smiled at him was any indication. Because sometimes, words weren’t necessary to speak to one’s emotions. Sometimes, all it took was one look to understand how deeply, how strongly, Casteel’s love for Poppy went. And Casteel had a feeling that even if Poppy didn’t have her abilities, she would come to know so, anyway. 

Just like he did with her. 

His fingers froze in her hair, the breath catching in his throat as her words registered, and Casteel immediately knew he would never get enough of hearing her say them. He held her to him, her body warm against his, feeling her own arms around his waist tighten.

“I’ve wanted to say that. . . For so long,” Poppy continued with a relieved sigh. “And I’m tired of keeping it to myself like it was some kind of secret,” she added with a gentle laugh. Casteel’s throat worked, knowing that she could definitely feel his heart thundering beneath his chest. She lifted her head, tilting it back to meet his gaze, and the glow of her green eyes and sight of her smile was his undoing. “I love you, Casteel, and I’m. . . So grateful to have you with me.”

Unreal. It was unreal how Poppy evoked these emotions in him, feelings he didn’t think he was capable of feeling ever again. From the moment she accidentally stumbled into his room at the Red Pearl, Poppy had Casteel hooked, and he never anticipated how firm her grasp on him would become. For years, Casteel was just. . . Functioning. Putting together his plan to rescue his brother, making sure everything was in place for him to kidnap the mysterious Maiden and use her as a bargaining chip.

But then he got to know Poppy and everything changed. She changed _him_ , for better or worse—

No. There was no _worse_. She changed him for the better and Casteel—Gods, he had never been more grateful for his plan to not work out.

Except it did work out. In a far, far better way. Serendipitous.

Casteel’s throat worked as he looked down at her, at her pretty smile and pretty eyes, and he could feel his own lips curving up. “I was hoping to say it first,” he murmured, lifting one hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear, knuckles grazing along her scarred cheek.

Poppy’s grin widened and, fuck, Casteel was _hers_. “Do you want me to take it back so you can say it first—and appease your ego?”

A short laugh escaped Casteel before he gave a shake of his head. He kept her close but grasped her cheeks in his hands, dropping his forehead to rest against hers. His throat felt tight as he whispered, almost pleadingly, “Say it again.”

He could feel her hands firmly on his back, keeping him close. Her smile remained, tilting her chin so her lips brushed against his as she repeated, “I love you.”

A shuddering breath escaped Casteel, one that made his entire body tremble as he squeezed his eyes shut. Because now, finally, he could admit one truth he held above all others. One truth that Casteel protected with every fiber of his being because it was the only one that mattered. _She_ was all that mattered.

So Casteel kissed her, pouring in everything he felt, and finally voicing the three words he’d kept locked inside himself because he didn’t feel deserving of them. But Poppy changed that. She made him feel like he was someone worthy of her love, and he would do everything to live up to that honor, until he took his very last breath and beyond.

He kissed her and finally said, “I love you.”

And now that they were out there in the world, Casteel would never stop proving them to be true.


End file.
